"It's a great world," was the manager's greeting. From this spot a road, more resembling the drive through a park than a public thoroughfare, led him gradually to the brow of Dollis Hill. He walked on for an hour longer, till he could scarcely drag one leg after another. You may fall into the hands of your enemy. They found a cosy little table in the tea-rooms, and everything was delicious. Now for it, Thames! Make as great a row as you can to divert his attention. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts.
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